by Nikki Ash
“I haven’t scheduled it.”
“Why?” he asks slowly.
“I haven’t even lived,” I cry. “There’s a chance I could die during the surgery. A chance they won’t be able to get it all. A chance I’ll need chemotherapy, radiation… It feels like I’m finally beginning to find myself. I’m finally starting to live, and it’s all going to be taken away. What if through it all, I lose myself again?”
“But if you don’t get the surgery, you’ll die,” he growls.
“I know but… I haven’t lived enough, yet, Ethan. I’m only twenty-four years old. I haven’t gotten married or had kids. I haven’t even skinny-dipped! I have so much I want to do. What if I die before I can do any of it?” Sobs rack my body, and Ethan pulls me into him for a hug.
“Your list,” he whispers. “It’s not just a bucket list. It’s literally the list of things you want to do before you die.”
I nod into his neck, sniffling back my cries. “I made it when I thought I would have more time, but then the tumor grew so fast and now I’m not going to have enough time to do everything on my list.”
“When did the doctor say you need to schedule the surgery?” he asks quietly.
“As soon as possible.”
“Fuck,” he curses under his breath.
Framing my face in his hands, he looks me in the eyes. “Marry me, Nevaeh.”
“Didn’t you hear everything I said?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t change how I feel about you. We’ll get through this together,” he vows. “We’ll go to Vegas and find a chapel and get married. I’ll rent us a room and spend the next forty-eight hours making love to you. And then, when we get back, we’ll go to your doctor together and schedule that damn surgery, so they can get that fucking tumor out of your head and everything will be fine.”
I can’t help but smile at everything he’s saying. Ethan is a take charge kind of guy. It’s why his businesses are so successful. When he sees a problem, he focuses on how to fix it.
“What about my list?”
“What about it?” His brows furrow in annoyance. “You can finish the list after your head is fixed. Hell, after it’s fixed, I’ll help you make another list. We can spend the rest of our fucking lives checking off items on your lists.”
I snort-sob and he smiles softly. “Seriously, Nevaeh. I get it. You’re afraid you’ll die before you do all those items on your list, but if you don’t have the surgery you won’t be alive to do all the items that aren’t on the list. I need you, baby. Please.”
“Okay.” I nod, my vision blurry from my tears, and my heart full from his words. “I’ll marry you.”
After booking our flight, and Ethan explaining to his mom—without telling her about my tumor—why he wants it to be just the two of us, promising she can help me plan a wedding and reception later—we pack our luggage and take off to the airport with Rosco driving us in his SUV. It’s a two-hour drive to the airport in Newark, and once we arrive we’re boarded almost immediately. A five-hour flight and a cab ride later and we’re standing in the most charming little chapel on the Strip, saying our ‘I dos’ in front of the most adorable man and his wife.
When he tells Ethan to place the ring on my finger, I’m about to explain we don’t have any, but before I can, Ethan plucks a gorgeous diamond ring from his pocket and slides it onto my finger.
“When my mom left my dad, she left this ring. He didn’t want it, so I took it and put it away. I think a part of me always hoped one day she would return and I would be able to give it back to her. It also felt like she left a piece of her with me.” He smiles sadly.
“When she returned, I tried to give it back…” When I give him a confused look, he says, “Sometimes when I get home, before I come up to bed, we hang out downstairs and talk.” He shrugs sheepishly, and I smile, happy he’s giving his mom a real chance. “She raised her left hand, showing off the new ring my dad bought her while they were in the Dominican Republic. She told me to hold onto it, and that she would love it if I would give it to the woman I want to marry. The ring was bought for her by my dad before he started making any money. He busted his ass, working two jobs, to save up the money so he could buy her a ring that conveyed how much he loved her.”
He brings my hand up to his mouth and kisses my finger with the ring. “Their love back then was untainted and pure. The day he gave it to her they had their whole lives ahead of them, and that’s what this ring symbolizes. We have our whole lives ahead of us, Angel.”
Tears leak from the corners of my lids as I absorb what he’s trying to tell me. I’m going to get through this. No, we’re going to get through this, and we’re going to have our entire lives to love each other and be together.
“I don’t have a ring for you,” I choke out.
“Actually, you do,” he says, pulling another ring out of his pocket like a magician pulling a rabbit out of his hat. “My dad’s ring.” He hands it to me, and I look down at it. It’s a simple silver—or maybe titanium—band, and inside is an inscription: un alma.
“It means one soul,” Ethan explains. “Yours has one as well.”
I take it off and say the words out loud, “Dos corazónes.”
“Two hearts.”
“Two hearts. One soul.”
Ethan nods. “I was shocked to learn my dad kept his ring, after all these years. Before we left, he pulled me aside and gave it to me since he also got a new one in the Dominican Republic.”
“They’re beautiful,” I tell him. “And I would be honored to wear their rings. They might’ve been apart for years, but they made their way back to each other, and I’d like to think no matter what happens in the future, I’ll always make my way back to you.”
“I’m never leaving your side, baby.” Ethan steps forward and kisses me, causing the officiant and his wife to laugh. Once we pull apart, we finish saying our vows and then once again Ethan kisses me, this time officially as my husband.
“Nevaeh, baby, you here with me?” Ethan asks, bringing me back to the present. We’ve just entered the hotel room Ethan’s booked for us and are standing in the bedroom. Of course Ethan insisted on the honeymoon suite, explaining we had to have the full experience. The largest bed I’ve ever seen in my life is in the center of the room, and covering the comforter are bright red rose petals. Faux candles are lit and placed on the nightstands and dressers, and adjacent to the bed is a gorgeous electric fireplace.
“I’m right here,” I tell him, softly kissing him. He’s dressed in a dashing black suit, and I’m wearing a pretty white dress Raquel lent me for the occasion.
Running his fingers along the straps of the dress, Ethan pulls them down, exposing my white, satin, lacy bra. His eyes light up knowingly. It’s the same set he found in my drawer and brought with him when he packed my stuff.
My dress drops to the floor, and Ethan lifts each of my feet, removing the dress and setting it on the back of the chair. Then he takes a step back, taking me completely in. To go with my white, satin, lacy bra, I’m wearing a matching thong. I’m also still standing in my white heels.
“You look so damn stunning,” Ethan murmurs. “My very own angel.”
He steps forward, like a man on a mission, about to devour me whole, but I shake my head, stopping him in his place. “You’ve stripped me down to my underwear, so it’s only fair I get to do the same.”
He laughs softly. “Have at it.” He spreads his arms out wide, and I step forward to undo his tie. I take my time removing it, then unbuttoning his shirt. I know Ethan is getting impatient, but now he knows a little bit how I felt every time I wanted to be with him and he refused. Although, I shouldn’t be too hard on him. Knowing I’m going to make love to my husband makes me extremely happy we waited. He was right to refuse me… But I won’t admit that to him, at least not yet.
After I remove his jacket, shoes, and socks, Ethan’s had enough, and with a growl, he lifts me into his arms and carries me to our bed, laying me in th
e center. He takes a moment to admire me, before he removes his pants, leaving himself in only his black boxer-briefs.
Climbing onto the bed, he hovers over me and gives me a passionate kiss. “I love you. Thank you for marrying me,” he murmurs against my lips.
“I love you,” I whisper back, as he trails kisses along my jawline and then down my throat. He peppers kisses along my bra line, and then dips both of the cups, revealing my breasts.
“So fucking perfect,” he says, before taking one nipple into his mouth. We’ve been together several times in the last couple months, done almost everything besides actually having sex, but something about him being my husband makes everything he’s doing feel more intense, more meaningful. He knows every inch of my body, probably better than I do, but it’s as if he’s getting to know it all over again, this time with me as his wife.
He kisses down my torso, and when he gets to my pussy, kisses the center over the thin material. “I wish I could leave this on,” he muses, “but I need to get to what’s underneath.” I giggle, and he glances up, smirking. I love how comfortable I am around Ethan. Like I can be myself.
Carefully, he pulls my panties off my body then spreads my legs. “Damn, woman, you’re so fucking ready for me.”
He pushes two fingers into me and I arch my back at the fullness. I can’t imagine what it will feel like when he’s in me. He slides his fingers in and out, and dips his head to lick my clit. I squirm in anticipation, knowing exactly what comes from Ethan licking my clit. He always puts me first. Every time we’re making out and it leads to pleasuring each other, he never allows me to pleasure him first.
A few swipes of his tongue later, and my orgasm slams into me. My legs clamp together, and Ethan’s chuckle vibrates down to my core as I ride out my climax.
“I will never get tired of making you come,” he says, sitting up and licking his lips.
With his eyes never leaving mine, he pulls his boxer-briefs down his muscular thighs and tosses them to the side. My eyes go straight to the appendage between his legs. Hard and straight and veiny, glistening slightly with a bit of pre-cum. Absolute perfection.
“Are you on birth control?” he asks, and for a second, I’m taken aback.
“Huh?” Grudgingly, I move my eyes from his dick back to his eyes. “What?”
Ethan mistakes my confusion for not understanding, and says softly, “Birth control, Angel. As much as I’d love to fill you with my babies, and I fully plan to one day, I don’t think now is the best time…” He smiles sadly, and I get it. We don’t know what my future is going to look like once we get back and I meet with my neurologist.
“I’m on birth control,” I admit, my voice cracking with unshed emotion. Having kids is on my list and it may not happen. “It’s in my arm and lasts four years.”
Ethan crawls up my body and kisses me. Then, because he’s attuned to my every thought and emotion, he says, “When all of this shit is past us, you’re never going to use birth control again, baby. I’m going to knock you up every chance I get, and we’re going to have little mini angels and devils running around.”
I snort out a laugh at his playfulness and, threading my fingers through his hair, pull on the ends, bringing his face close to mine. “Make love to me, husband.”
“It will be my pleasure, wife.”
While kissing me tenderly, Ethan guides himself into me, one inch at a time. He’s gentle, but it still hurts, and when my body stiffens in pain, he kisses me harder, as if he’s trying to syphon every ounce of pain I’m feeling from me.
When he’s completely seated in me, he stills for a moment. “You okay, Angel?” he murmurs against my lips.
“Yes,” I breathe. “Make love to me, please.”
Ethan nods and then begins to move. My hands leave his hair and go to his strong shoulders, sliding downward and landing on his muscular forearms, which are caging me in on either side. I hold them tight, as he enters me deeply and draws out slowly. I read a lot of women don’t orgasm during sex, especially during their first time, but when his pelvis rubs friction against my clit, my entire body shivers in pleasure.
“Jesus, fuck,” he groans. “You’re so fucking tight, baby. So warm.” His arms are shaking, and I can tell he’s working hard to go slow and be gentle, but I don’t want him to treat me like I’m breakable. I want Ethan completely, without him holding back.
“Fuck me,” I whisper into his ear, using a word I don’t think I’ve ever said out loud.
“Nevaeh…” He growls lowly.
“I can take it, please. Fuck me. Make me yours.”
And that’s all it takes to convince my husband to let go. His lips crash against mine, our tongues hungrily meeting. We’re ravenous for each other, as Ethan fucks me harder, deeper. My body is on fire. I can’t get enough of him. With every thrust into me, his pelvis rubs friction against my clit, and all too soon, everything inside me is clenching. My legs shake, and I scream out his name as I come completely undone. With a growl and then a grunt, Ethan follows right after, filling me with his warm seed.
He stills, catching his breath, and I do the same. And then slowly, he pulls out, causing me to wince. He notices and his lips tip down into a frown.
“I’m okay,” I assure him, framing his face with my hands before he pulls away.
“I’ll be right back,” he says, edging off the bed and walking to the bathroom. I use the moment to check out his muscular butt. The man is, as Blaire would say, the definition of sex on a stick. And he’s my husband. The thought has me feeling giddy, and before I can stop it, a giggle escapes my lips.
“What’s so funny?” Ethan asks, sauntering over to me with a wet washcloth in his hand. He nudges my legs apart and swipes up my center.
“I was just thinking about how lucky I am to have such a sexy husband.”
When he lifts the washcloth, it’s tinted pink. He smirks cockily and I laugh at how dirty he is. He doesn’t have to say anything for me to know he loves that he was the one to take my virginity.
“This isn’t going to be enough,” he says. “Why don’t we take a shower?”
When I grin, he laughs. “You’re going to be sore, baby. Just a shower.”
“We’ll see,” I say in a sing-song voice, climbing out of bed and skipping to the shower. We both know Ethan can’t say no to me, and what I want is for my husband to make love to me again in the shower.
Ethan
“Let’s go in here!” Nevaeh points to the tattoo shop. After spending the afternoon in bed, wrapped around my wife and having room service brought up for a late lunch, she insisted we get out and explore. We’ve spent the last hour or so checking out the fountains and people watching. Nevaeh loves to watch people and how they react to each other. She giggles when they kiss and makes up stories when they’re in a heated discussion.
“You going to get another tattoo?” I ask, walking in behind her. She’s dressed simply in a pair of khaki skinny jeans and a netted see-through gold shirt with a white tank top underneath. The shirt shows off her perfect tits and curves, and the jeans mold to her plump ass. All I can think about is the next time I’m going to get her underneath me. Resisting her in the shower took an ungodly amount of strength, no matter how hard she tried to convince me. But I wasn’t about to hurt her. She might not be sore yet, but she’ll be feeling it tomorrow, and I wasn’t about to add to that. We have our entire lives to be together…
But even as the thought surfaces, a large lump forms in my throat. Forcibly, I swallow it down, refusing to think about just how long I might have with Nevaeh. I’m not going to go there until I speak to her doctor myself. I wanted to ply her with a million questions last night when she told me about her brain tumor, but I held back, not wanting to upset her. I could see it in her eyes, hear it in her voice, she was worried about marrying me, knowing I’ve already lost my daughter and Kelsi. But what she doesn’t understand is that just a single day with Nevaeh is worth the heartbreak I would feel if I los
t her. I’ve spent the last twelve years keeping my emotions locked away, but I can’t do that with her. She’s the other half of me. The more I was scared of. I can’t be me without her, but more importantly, I don’t want to be me without her.
“I’d like to get the quote from our rings,” she says, stepping up to the front counter. The gentleman greets her and she explains what she would like. He tells her he can do that now if she can give him a few minutes to draw it up.
“I’d like it done as well,” I tell him, sliding my arms around Nevaeh from behind and resting my chin on her shoulder. I kiss the side of her neck and she tilts her face up to smile at me.
While we wait for the guy to come back out, we sit on the couch. Nevaeh cuddles into my side while looking through the various photo albums filled with different drawings, every once in a while asking me what I think about the drawing. While we wait, I focus on Nevaeh. The sweetness of her scent, the craziness of her hair, how soft her skin is. I’m worried what will be waiting for us when we return, what the doctor will say. But I need to be strong for her. She needs me to be strong for her. With Felix and Logan being locked up, I’ve told Rosco to hire a company to move our stuff to my house. When we return, we’ll go straight there.
“What do you think?” Pete, the tattoo artist, asks, showing us the designs. He’s drawn up a more feminine version for Nevaeh, and something more simple and masculine for me. I would’ve preferred to go to Forbidden Ink, but I must admit the guy did a damn good job.
“I love it,” Nevaeh squeals.
“Looks great,” I add.
Nevaeh goes first, getting it inked on the inside of her wrist, and when it’s my turn, I get it right over my heart. She steals my phone because it has the better camera and takes pictures of both our tattoos, telling me she wants to always remember today. I can’t help feeling like her words have a deeper meaning, but I push it aside.
When we’re done, I pay the artist and then open the door for Nevaeh, so we can head back onto the Strip. I’m not paying attention, focusing on my phone—my bar manager is asking about a liquor order she needs to place—so when Nevaeh stops in her tracks, I run into the back of her. She stumbles forward, and I hook my arm around her waist so she doesn’t fall.
